The Other Side of the Unemotional Cowboy
by shadowed-wolfe
Summary: Vaughn, as we all know him, is the reserved type of cowboy, keeping his emotions bottled up. However, is there a memory that will break through those barriers? Is there another side to the seemingly unemotional cowboy?


The Other Side of the Unemotional Cowboy

**A/N:**

**Okay, so I had another idea for a little Chelsea/Vaughn fluff story. Is it obvious that I absolutely love the couple? :) But I was thinking…that even such a reserved guy like Vaughn has to let his guard down sometimes, right? Something that is caused by something really painful? The first chapter has Chelsea and Vaughn as a married couple. They just got married like, a month/season ago. It has a bit of his past in it, and I wanted to have that come out. This idea has been bugging me for so long, and finally I was able to sit down and type it.**

**Thank you for reading! Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon, even though I wished I did.**

* * *

Winter 5

1:05 am

Vaughn woke with a start, panting and sweating. He raised his hand to his eyes, and pressed on them, still recalling the memory.

After a few seconds, Vaughn let his hand drop and looked to his right, where Chelsea lay, deeply asleep. In the moonlight that streamed through the windows, she looked beautiful. Slowly, Vaughn raised his hand, and drew closer and closer to Chelsea. Just to brush her cheek…

Suddenly, the memory of what woke Vaughn up came back to him, and he jerked his hand back. No, Vaughn shouldn't wake Chelsea. He shouldn't burden her with his problems.

Quietly, Vaughn slipped out of bed, careful not to wake his wife.

He shuffled toward the kitchen in his bare feet. En route to the kitchen, he could finally admit to himself—thank the Goddess that Chelsea was not here to hear his this—that walking without his boots on really was quieter. How Chelsea always said that his boots were loud and annoying—_clack clack­—_even though Chelsea never made a notion to get rid of them permanently.

When he finally got to the kitchen, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, which was good because then Vaughn wouldn't have to turn on the lights and wake Chelsea up.

He shuffled toward the cabinets where he stopped and got a glass. After that, he walked to the sink, turned the faucet, and let water fill his glass till it was almost close to over-filling.

He turned the knob, and the water stopped. Vaughn took a step back and pressed his lips to the edge of the glass. He closed his eyes and took a small sip…

_Wham!_

The memory came back, then, and Vaughn couldn't fight it anymore.

_His dad was mad, like always. This time, though, he was also drunk. Vaughn did something or said something that ticked him off. It was so blurry that he couldn't really recall anything… Then, his dad pulled out his belt. _

"_Shut up, you ungrateful twerp!"_

_His dad swore at him some more, and then raised his hand, in which held a black, lethal-looking belt…_

Vaughn recoiled just like he had that night. Vaughn took a step back, his left cheek stinging brutally, like all those years previous. Dimly, in the back of Vaughn's mind, he registered that he had dropped the glass. However, he made no notion to pick it up.

Vaughn felt the pain—he experienced it even now like he had before. The searing, burning pain that seemed to be all over his back, mostly, and his face. His arms, too, and legs.

Vaughn's legs buckled under him, and he felt pain again.

_Oh, how mad his dad could be. He hated the belt, but the buckle the most of all. Metal against flesh…not a good feeling. _

The memory…Vaughn couldn't seem to forget it. Oh, how much he was hated as a child. His parents never loved him…no one did. Everyone thought he was a weird little silver-haired, purpled-eyed freak.

Vaughn fell forward, on all fours. His palms burned, but that was nothing—_nothing—_compared to the whippings he had received from his dad.

_His dad looked different, not the same. After he was done, he took a breath, and then wanted to start again. Again, he walked toward Vaughn, his arm raised, his eyes gleaming, a smile playing on his lips, one that could only be caused by his son's misery…_

"Vaughn?" a voice called out, and the kitchen was flooded in yellow.

Vaughn didn't raise his head.

"Vaughn? Oh, my Goddess! You're bleeding! Vaughn, what happened?" Vaguely, Vaughn felt Chelsea rush over to him, touch him, and help him to his feet.

Vaughn looked down and saw red. Now, why did that shade of red look so familiar?

Chelsea led Vaughn to the bed, where she made him sit and stay there while she got some bandages.

Chelsea had woken up when a crash sounded. She had rolled over, finding Vaughn's spot empty. She jumped out of bed, wondering what happened, and found him in the kitchen, on all fours, in shattered glass and blood.

What had happened? Chelsea wondered while searching for the bandages. What could have made Vaughn like that?

* * *

Meanwhile, Vaughn, sitting on the bed, glanced at his blood-red palms. They weren't bleeding really badly, but the bleeding still had not stopped. He flipped them over, and then over again, dimly processing them.

A clear drop landed in the middle of his palm. It mixed with the blood, making a shade of pink.

Blood and Tears. Vaughn knew the combination of those two from a very early age.

Vaughn heard footsteps, and looked up to find Chelsea walking toward him with bandages, wearing a very worried expression.

Chelsea was shocked to see Vaughn's eyes. They were dim, dead, and looked at Chelsea as if she were a stranger.

Vaughn felt Chelsea pick up his hand, wipe it, put some ointment on it, and then carefully bandaged it. She went on to his other hand, and then kneeled in front of him.

Chelsea saw some blood soak through Vaughn's pants. She rolled them up, and found them to be also covered in blood. It wasn't as bad as his palms were, though.

"I'll have to call Dr. Trent here soon to check if there's any glass that got in your knee or palm," Chelsea murmured, while doing the same with his knees as she did with his palms.

Finally, Chelsea finished, but did not rise. She slowly raised a hand and touched Vaughn's left cheek. Vaughn flinched a little.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

Then, Vaughn came out of his zombie-like trance. All those memories of his dad beating him, harassing him both verbally and physically came back with a _whoosh. _Vaughn couldn't hold it in anymore.

Chelsea was shocked to see Vaughn crying. In all the time they dated and hung out, Vaughn barely showed any emotion except for the occasional smile or two.

Immediately, Chelsea hugged Vaughn, stroking his silky silver hair.

"Shh," she murmured, while Vaughn continued to sob.

Vaughn felt all those emotions that he had kept sealed up for the past twenty-five years pool out of him.

Vaughn leaned forward, and would have fell face-first on the ground had Chelsea not have caught him. She leaned her back against the flat side of their bed, and let Vaughn lean on her, his head on her shoulder. He continued to let the tears come out, still remembering all those memories. Those horrible memories.

Chelsea was even more shocked while Vaughn continued to grieve. She didn't ask any questions, just held him close. Her shirt was soaked, but that was the least of her problems. What was the matter with Vaughn? She continued to stroke his hair, murmuring to him now and then, and allowing him to cry.

Eventually, though, Vaughn stopped, and then fell asleep. His head fell off of Chelsea's shoulder, but she caught it and rested it in her lap. Chelsea reached up to grab their blanket off of their bed, and then covered her and Vaughn with it. She continued to stroke his hair, even as she was falling asleep herself. She did it even sub-consciously, in her sleep.

* * *

When the first sunlight streaked in through the window, Vaughn opened his eyes, and found himself lying in Chelsea's lap. His eyes felt swollen, and there was a dull pain in his palms and knees. He raised himself up, and then just sat there, looking at Chelsea's sleeping figure.

He remembered how she held him while he cried. Never had someone actually comforted him while he cried. Never had someone actually love him as much as Chelsea did. She was his everything, and she gave him everything to make him happy.

He thought that by sealing away his memories and emotions he would be safe. Safer than his childhoods, at least. His emotions often got the best of him when he was little. Whenever he cried, the pain got worse and worse.

He thought that now that he was older the memories might disappear. Fade into nothing. He was fine, at least up until last night. What had triggered them?

He thought back to last night. He was thinking about how much he loved Chelsea, how lucky he was that she chose _him. _

But then, the memory of his father broke in, as if reminding him that he could never be loved, and always hated and hurt.

However, as he sat there, the memories crushing him like a giant wave, Chelsea had rescued him. She accepted him. Even in the beginning, she accepted him. He tried to push her away, but she came back, as if his harsh nature didn't bother her.

He gazed at Chelsea once more.

The memories came to him, wanting to hurt him, but Chelsea had pushed them away.

Vaughn leaned in, closer and closer until his lips touched hers. At contact, Chelsea's eyes fluttered open, revealing blue sapphires.

Chelsea kissed him back, and with that kiss Vaughn knew two things:

One—that Chelsea would always be there to comfort him, to protect him, to love him.

And two—that the memories of his horrific childhood would no longer bother him.

And in time, all that would remain of those memories would be the physical scars, but not the memories itself. The memories would fade into nothingness, replaced by happiness, life, and love.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Well, did you like it? Did you find Vaughn's **_**abnormal **_**behavior OOC? Or did it seem realistic? Or, like me, you found it just a little bit cheesy in some parts? Mostly the ending…haha. Please, tell me how you felt about it!**

**But anyway, I'm glad that I finally wrote this, because I could not get sleep unless I wrote it. It was bugging me last night while I was trying to sleep…sigh. Oh well. **

**Thank you everyone who reads it! **

**Oh, by the way, is it only me that thinks the title seems like a **_**Hannah Montana **_**song? You know, "**_**The other side, the other side, the other side of me." **_**LOL. The title was a spur of the moment thing, and I couldn't think of a better one. Sorry about that!**

**Please review!**

***Shadowed-Wolfe***


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